


Cardinal Sin on a Prison Room Floor

by MythicalCatie



Series: Love Me Now [3]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst, Daddy Kink, Dark!Link, Death Row, Dom Link, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming, Spanking, Sub Rhett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 19:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14599797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicalCatie/pseuds/MythicalCatie
Summary: Link is coming up on his final days, and he has one last request. Rhett is more than happy to oblige.





	Cardinal Sin on a Prison Room Floor

A loud buzz rang through North-Seg, but it didn’t startle Link; not much could after nine years in this place. In fact, he barely paid attention to the sound. If it was for him, he’d know when his cell was approached. Otherwise, the plot of his book was way more interesting than whatever was going on in the hallway.

He had mastered concentration long ago, and it was a valuable skill, here. While other inmates were driving themselves crazy trying to get some peace and quiet, he always had it. All he had to do was space out.

Besides, keeping to himself was what landed him in North-Seg in the first place. He’d started out in East Block, but good behavior got him moved, and all he’d done was keep his mouth shut. Who knew it paid to be quiet?

After almost a decade in prison, he’d gotten a lot done. Read all the books he’d always wanted to, worked on his skills (or lack thereof at the beginning) as an artist, and even wrote a few short (and not so short) stories, some of which had been published on the outside. All of the things that Link Neal wanted to do that he could accomplish from inside a prison cell approximately the same size as a walk-in closet, he’d done. It was just a shame that in the end, it had all been for nothing.

“Hey, Link,” a rough voice called from outside the thirty-nine year old’s cell, one that belonged to somebody that he recognized well. His case manager. “A word, please.”    

The man was, Link guessed, a bit older than him, maybe forty-five or fifty. He was slightly taller, too, but despite his likely higher age, he still had a head of mostly brown hair whereas Link’s had long gone entirely grey.

His name was Sawyer Graham, and he was one of many case managers, and one of an even larger number of employees, at the prison. He was a number out of a set of numbers of workers, just as Link was one as a prisoner. However, there was something that set Sawyer apart from the rest of the people employed by the federal facility: he was the only one in the whole place that treated Link like a human being as opposed to an animal in a cage. He didn’t treat him like an exhibit at the zoo, like a spectacle to observe. Sawyer treated him not only like just another guy, but a _friend._ And so, naturally, he was the only one that Link actually _enjoyed_ talking to.

Link didn’t mind having to put his book down to talk to Sawyer. Generally, he was okay with reading, but when he found somebody he liked to talk to, a conversation was much preferable.   

Making sure that his novel was face down on his mattress so that he wouldn’t lose his page, the man nodded and made his way over to the bars of his cell. He leaned on them with one shoulder like he was a bad boy senior in high school smoking a cigarette. He knew, though, that in his all-blue uniform, he didn’t look nearly as cool as a James Dean type would striking the exact same pose. “What’s up, Smores?”

Link was the type to give nicknames to those people that he enjoyed the company of. Sawyer was Smores because his last name was Graham, and it reminded Link of graham crackers, a key component of, you guessed it, smores. That wasn’t to say that the coordinator appreciated the moniker itself, but he was a fan of the sentiment. At least Link liked him enough to bestow one upon him, and he was pretty sure that he one of maybe three people in the whole prison with one, too. Even coming from somebody like Link, it was nice.

As always, a soft roll of Sawyer’s eyes preceded any actual speech. No matter how many times he had made it clear that he didn’t fancy being compared to a fireside treat, the guy still did it. Oh well. It had grown on him. “Came to mark another item off my checklist. Got to put in the order for your last meal, seeing as your appeal fell through.” The only reason he’d even filed one (or four) was due to tearful pleas from Rhett, and honestly, both he and Sawyer (and likely a good part of the country, too) were shocked that not one of them stuck. With the protestors that had been essentially stalking the prison and other official offices as his date neared (and with each appeal that came and went), it was shocking Link Neal still wasn’t a free man. “Have you given any thought to what you might want?”

Link gave a lick of his lips that turned into a half-smile, half-smirk. Of course he had thought about it. Long, hard, and with great care. After all, thinking was one of the big things to do in this place, and it _was_ his last ever meal… He had to make it count, didn’t he?

“Yeah, man. I know exactly what I want.”

Sawyer quirked an eyebrow, giving the inmate an expectant look. “Well? Share with the class, then, will you?” With a brain that belonged to somebody like Charles Lincoln Neal, whatever he had come up with must be good. He could certainly wait, but would rather not delay in hearing it, especially if it was something poetic, ironic, or just plain outrageous. He’d always thought that with things like that, sooner was better than later.

“For my last meal,” he began and then paused briefly, savoring the last moment that his desire would remain purely in his head. After it left his mouth, there was no telling whether or not it would actually be honored, and he wasn’t so sure he was prepared for that possibility. However, he doubted that it _wouldn’t_ go through. So many people in this prison adored him that it was highly unlikely _not_ to be given to him. The rule in San Quentin, as far as most staff were concerned, was, “Link Neal asks and Link Neal shall receive.” “For my last meal, I would like to have my husband’s sweet ass. And no, I would not like a side of fries with that.”

Admittedly, that wasn’t what Sawyer had expected, but he wasn’t sure why he had found his mouth gaping open. He had heard much more vile requests from criminals much worse than Link; he’d dealt with pedophiles who requested **children** as their last meal, for Christ’s sake! This was _nothing_ compared to those guys. Why was **this** what surprised him? He supposed, maybe, that it was just because he was expecting something a bit more… intellectual. “Link, you and I both know I can’t do that for you. Your last meal has to be _food_ , not a sex act. And on a prison room floor, man? Think about that for a second!”  

Link’s expression was knowing. He had a lot of spare time in here, and that meant he was free to commit the rules of anything and everything to memory. This included the state of California’s laws on last meals for death row inmates, and he wouldn’t have opened his mouth if he thought for even a second that his request wasn’t at the very least legally allowed. Going to be honored was a different story, but at least he had lawful.

“Mm, believe me, I’ve thought about it more than you care to know. I’m dying, Smores. One way or the other. What the hell do I care if I get a little dirt and grime on me when I’m on my knees? And I’ve read those rules cover to cover a thousand times. Nowhere in there does it say that my last meal has to include actual food. There’s a cost limit, yeah, but he’ll spread it like a two dollar whore as long as I’m the one doing the askin’. Guys ask and receive cigarettes all the time, and those aren’t _food._ Couldn’t you just… pull some strings? I’m not after a lot here, Sawyer. Just… try?” That was the closest he’d ever get to begging. Of course, the situation deserved much more if it came to be necessary, but he wasn’t that kind of man. He wasn’t the type of man to press and plead and whine after something until he got it. He either took it himself, or he requested it with dignity and hoped for the best.  

Sawyer knew that he wasn’t wrong. His meal would be free as far as the state was concerned, and it wasn’t like he was asking anybody to go out of their way to give him what he wanted. What harm was there in putting in the form and seeing what came of it? “I’ll see what I can do. So what is that you’re reading, there?”

* * *

 

A loud buzz, and Link was sitting up in bed, swiping remnants of sleep from his eyes. That wasn’t saying that he got very much the previous night, though. If he hadn’t just been dreaming, he didn’t think he could say for sure that he’d gotten any at all.

His vision was still clearing when a pair of guards walked up to his cell.

“Up and at ‘em, Neal,” the taller of man of the pair said, coming closer to the bars of the structure in which Link resided. “Your last meal is here.”

Link nodded. He knew the drill when he was leaving the cell block.

Standing from his bed, the thirty-nine year old made his way over to the bars of his cell and waited.

The taller guard reached into the cell and cuffed Link’s hands while the shorter one worked on shackling his ankles, both men taking care to make sure that he was not being cuffed to the cell bars themselves.

Once they were confident that Link was secure, the taller guard, who had remained standing, instructed that Link step back (which he obliged to do), then reached for the ring hooked to one of his belt loops before unlocking Link’s cell door.

Link was granted permission to exit his cell, and he stepped out into the hall. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was all but vibrating with excitement at the fact that he was minutes away from seeing Rhett, though it must be said that it was bittersweet; it _was_ one of the last times, after all. The only thing that he could do, that they both could do, was cherish it. It was all that they got.

The walk down the hallway, one that he’d covered millions of times before, had never been longer. It seemed like with every step he took, it doubled in length and instead of seeing a light at the end of it, it only grew darker. It had been a very long time since he felt the type of relief that he experienced once the entire thing was finally behind him.

* * *

 

A loud buzz and the trio was granted access to another section of the floor. This hallway wasn’t nearly as long as the last one. They were only going to the third door on the left.

Link knew it. They’d **said** it. Rhett was behind the third door to the left.

He knew he was there, in the building. It was only logical. Rhett was the one that he was **seeing** , after all, and he had been as patient as could be in reaching the general area that contained him. But somehow, knowing the exact room that Rhett was in riddled Link with the uncontrollable urge to break the door down with only the use of his bare hands. Thankfully, his hands were restrained at the moment. He wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to keep himself settled if they weren’t.

Waiting for the door to be unlocked, Link felt like a kid on Christmas morning whose parents weren’t yet awake. It was **torture** . He could **see** Rhett, even if it was just a little sliver of him, through the window of the door, but he couldn’t get to him. What the hell was _taking_ so long?

Rhett was pacing, and he looked upset. Distressed, even, and all Link wanted to do was get to him and give him the biggest hug that his arms could manage. The blond appeared to need it, and if Link was being truthful, so did his husband. If only these people could understand that!

It was a forever before the door was unlocked, and Link was followed in. He’d have to deal with that in a minute. He couldn’t care less, but there was no way that Rhett was going to be comfortable being watched during an activity like _this_. But for now, his only concern was that hug.

“Hey, Rhett,” he said, and his next move was already being taken care of before he could even think to extend his arms, not that he physically could once he got that far.

Cold metal pressed against Rhett’s torso as he held his husband to his chest, his grip indicating that he never wanted to let go. He would give anything not to have to.

The older man didn’t say anything as he embraced the love of his life, trying to take in the moment and commit it to memory, settle the feeling into his bones so he would never forget it. He imagined he’d be doing a lot of that this visit.

Link was the one to break the silence, delicately so as not to make Rhett think he didn’t want him to continue holding him. That was the furthest from the truth they could get. He just wanted to be able to touch him, too. “Rhett, darlin’. Why don’t you let go for just a second so he can unlock my cuffs? I wanna hug you back, baby.”

It was clear that Rhett was reluctant to break the hug, almost as if he was afraid that the second he let go, Link would dissolve into thin air, never to be seen or felt again. But with a few reassuring words from Link, he was able to bring himself to pull away.

 _Not for long,_ he told himself, repeating in his head what Link had told him. _Just for a minute, then I can hold him for as long as I want._

Thankfully, the guard that had accompanied Link inside made quick work of freeing him from his restraints.

For his part, Rhett didn’t waste any time in grabbing hold of the younger man again, and Link didn’t take long to hold him back. It felt so good for Link’s arms to be around him. Even in a prison, they made Rhett feel safe.

“It’s okay,” Link muttered, reaching a hand up to stroke Rhett’s hair. “I’m here now,” and Rhett couldn’t help the dark thought that attacked him upon hearing those words: _Not for long._

It was only after a long time that Rhett felt comfortable letting go of Link, and he looked uncomfortable when he did. At least he’d retained a grip on his hand. “So, um…” he mumbled, his cheeks lightly tinted with pink, the color peeking out from over his beard. It was a flattering shade, or at least Link thought so. “I guess we’re not really here to talk.”

“No,” he confirmed, his voice still soft but with an undertone of danger finding its way in. “We’re not.”  

As Rhett soon discovered, the edge in Link’s tone wasn’t for him. It was for the correctional officer who was very much the third wheel on their little (last) date.

Turning on his heel to face the man (while, of course, still holding onto Rhett’s hand), Link hoped that his expression was the right balance of polite and firm so that this would work. He wasn’t worried. “Hey, do you mind giving us a bit of privacy, here?”

“Can’t do that,” was the response he received, not even getting the courtesy of being looked in the eye. Though, he could hear it. The guy’s voice was trembling. “All visitations must be monitored.”

Then, Link saw it. The look in the officer’s eye that was telling him something specific, something he’d been told a lot over the years, _“Ask me again.”_ Ask him so he could say, provided that he was asked, that he fought Link on the matter.

Link sighed. He couldn’t help it. He could feel Rhett heating up just by holding his hand. “But this isn’t all visitations. My husband’s about to strip in here,” Or, more like Link would be stripping him, “and he has a legal right to privacy. He’s not an inmate. He doesn’t get to be watched over. He shouldn’t have to feel stared at.” The rest of his thought was left unspoken. _“Especially when he’ll be moaning like a cheap slut against this wall in about five minutes.”_ He figured that part was implied, and as an after thought, maybe it would be best to use the bed that had been provided to them. But, of course, it was whatever was more comfortable for Rhett. He’d have to give him the choice.

“Your husband’s legal rights are subject to our rules once he steps inside this prison, inmate. He abides by our laws in here, and our laws say that a CO must be present to monitor all visitations.”

“C’mon,” Link said, and the guard could swear he saw eyelashes flutter. “I was searched before I came in here, you did it yourself, and I’d never hurt him. All I’m asking is that you stand outside with your back to the window.” Rhett was red hot now, unmistakably flustered at the prospect of being monitored like a mating animal while the man he loved got him off. “It’s not about me. Just… put yourself in his shoes for a minute.”

The CO looked hesitant and Link could understand why; barely anybody felt justified honoring the requests of a death row inmate. Very few people working in the prison knew what every single inmate in their charge had done to become an inmate to begin with, but Link was one of a few rare cases where the opposite was true. He was a bit famous, if he did say so himself. People heard his name and **recognized** it.

Looking Link right in the eye, his gaze unyielding, he promised, “You try anything and you’re dead before your date.”

“Understood,” Link confirmed and with that, the CO was gone.

“That was… intense,” Rhett commented. He hadn’t noticed that he’d been squeezing Link’s hand tighter during the exchange until his grip loosened.

“That was nothing, babe,” Link assured softly, giving him a gentle smile. “That was me getting what I wanted. Nothing’s actually gonna happen. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Rhett nodded, but still appeared curious. “You weren’t nervous? He looked at you kinda sideways. Are you sure you’re not gonna get hurt?”

Link’s smile grew at the inquiry, this grin more of a fond nature. Link was glad for it, don’t get him wrong, but Rhett was so _innocent_. Much worse had been said to him before. Death threats that weren’t even going to actually happen were a compliment compared to some of the things guards had said to him in the past. “I’m not worried, darlin’. You heard him. He’s only gonna hurt me if I hurt you, and that’s not gonna happen, now is it?”

“Never.” No matter what Link had done to others in his life, Rhett had always been off limits. He loved him too much to make him a target of anything other than affection.

“That’s right,” the grey-haired man said, and danger started to drip back into his voice again. This time, it was danger that Rhett only wanted more of. “The only thing that’s gonna be happenin’ in here is that you’re gonna have a good time. You hear me?” His concern wasn’t gone just yet. It wouldn’t be until he knew that they could move on.

“I hear you,” Rhett assured, his cheeks beginning to flame. He had barely gotten any sleep the night before because he’d been thinking about this. Of course he was going to have a good time while he was in the moment. “You'll be okay.”

“I’ll be okay,” he echoed and stepped closer, reaching out to play with the top button of Rhett’s dress shirt. He was unsure why the blond hadn’t worn a tee, but it was just as well. It was fun this way, too. “I’ve been dreaming about this for days,” he confessed, right up on him now. Rhett could practically feel Link’s breath on his skin. “I’ve missed touching you, bo. It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

The sentence appeared to resonate, and Rhett nodded his head slightly. “The drive up here was torture cause I knew I couldn't feel you yet. A guard searched me when I came in and gosh, I wished they were your hands, Link.”

Link grinned predatorily and started working on undoing the buttons of Rhett’s shirt. God, he wanted to just rip them off, but going slow built the anticipation. He wished he was the type of person who allowed himself to let the opportunity for tension pass by without action. But, that was fine. He was going to have his hands all over Rhett one way or the other anyway. “Well,” he began, his Southern accent suddenly prominent. “You’re a very good boy for being so patient, Rhett. Thank you.”

His salmon-colored dress shirt was halfway open when he responded with a small, “Thanks, Link.” He could feel a bulge starting to grow in his jeans. He didn’t know if Link had noticed.

Link didn’t seem like he was in any hurry to get the rest of the buttons undone, though, because once fifty-percent of them were separated, he slipped his dominant hand into the shirt to explore a little.

Rhett’s chest was solid, just as it had always been. Freckles dotted the skin of it, each varying in color and size. It rose and fell heavily, then ceased to. Rhett’s breath was caught in his throat.

Link’s hand was cold against him, the air of the room chilling it. He knew it wouldn’t be that way for long, though. Right now, Rhett had enough heat to warm the whole building, but still, he shivered.

“Calm down, calm down,” Link instructed, a small smirk on his face. “It’ll warm up.”

The younger man ran his palm along his spouse’s torso slowly, almost agonizingly so, just taking his time in feeling around. Every once in a while, he’d move his hand lower and lower until Rhett was hit with the urge to grab it and put it exactly where he wanted it himself. But he knew Link’s game. He went slow until slow was no longer an option. Even when they used to be a half an hour late to an event already, he wouldn’t rush. He was a perfectionist, and they both knew that today would be no exception.

It wasn’t long before his hand it the next done-up button, but soon, those were gone, and the shirt was being peeled off. It hit the floor and Rhett couldn’t find the words to dispute it. As far as he was concerned, Link could do the unspeakable to him and he’d still say, “thank you.”

“That’s much better,” Link informed somebody, whether it was Rhett or himself, Rhett wasn’t sure, and wrapped his arms around the taller male’s midsection to pull him closer. He had to stand on his toes to plant a kiss to Rhett’s lips, but he knew it would get easier the lower he laid them. However, Rhett seemed not to be a fan of the idea that Link’s lips were planning to leave his own.

“Stay,” he mumbled, pulling him back when he tried to break away from the kiss. Then, softer, again, “Just stay.” He needed the taste of Link more than he needed progress.

“Okay,” Link agreed, happy to oblige. For as much as this was _his_ last meal, this was Rhett’s moment. This was **his** memory. Whatever it was that Link had to do to make it perfect, he was going to do. Besides, at Rhett’s lips certainly wasn’t a bad place to be.

Rhett draped his arms around Link’s neck, and he smiled against his lips. He tried to commit their cloud-like softness to his memory, knowing that he didn’t have very long.

Link kissed him passionately and hoped that the taste would linger. He wanted to experience it until the last second he had. “There’s so much I want to do to you,” he confessed, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles into the small of his back. “But why don’t you tell me what you want from me, first, baby? Today’s about you, hm?”

The grey-haired male was too close to his counterpart’s face to see it, but he had a puzzled expression on his face.

“But I thought,” he started, pausing to kiss Link again, “I thought were here here to do somethin’ specific.” It was partly a statement, partly a question. He had come for a particular act; why did he suddenly have choice in the matter? “I’m not tryin’ to complain, but…”

Link ran his hands up and down Rhett’s sides. He wanted to feel every inch of him. “Just because we have a destination in mind doesn’t mean we can’t have other fun along the way, sweetheart. It’s about the journey.” Link cleared his throat and his voice rumbled, now, deep like a cave. “Now, tell Daddy what’s going through that gorgeous head of yours.”

A shiver ran down Rhett’s spine. He swallowed hard. “Uhm… Uh...”

Link raised an eyebrow. Was he blanking or was he just embarrassed to ask for what he wanted? If he was a betting man, he’d put his money on the latter; both of them had had plenty of time to imagine a scenario such as this. “C’mon, darlin’,” he coaxed. “You can tell me. I won’t laugh. It’s whatever you want. All you have to do is say the words and you’ve got it.”

“You sure?” Rhett asked hesitantly, kissing him again. If that didn’t help to reassure him, he didn’t know what would.

“Of course I’m sure. You know me, I have one rule and it’s to give my baby boy anything he wants.” Link moved his lips away to kiss Rhett’s neck, but then looked straight ahead once more so Rhett had access whenever he next pleased. “Besides, there’s not anything **too** weird we can do in here anyway, but even if there was, I’d be willing. I like to try everything at least once, you know.” And this time would be his last chance. “So, the answer is yes, but I can’t do anything until I know what it is you’d like. You don’t have to tell me right away if you’re not comfortable yet. We have time, and I’m going to take every second and make it worth your while no matter what. So, you just tell me when you’re ready, okay? That sound good?”

Rhett nodded, but the look that Link gave him in reply told him that that was not sufficient.

“Use your words, Rhett,” he said firmly but not unkindly, making sure to maintain eye contact. “I won’t take gestures for answers.”

Rhett nodded again to show that he understood, but that was only habit. He was quick in correcting himself. “Yes. That sounds good.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir,” Rhett remedied, and Link smiled.

“Good. Speak up when you’re ready to.”

Though Link already had a million ideas of what to do with Rhett swirling around in his head, he was excited to hear his input. Rhett always had the best ideas, and he could get creative in any situation. Creativity was definitely something they needed when they had barely anything to work with at all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Link began his plan of trailing kisses over Rhett’s skin. He started at his lips, then it was his exposed neck and his freckled shoulders. Next it was his strong arms and his even stronger chest. “Would you prefer the bed or against the wall?” Following that, it was his soft stomach. If Link had to choose, that was what he’d say was his favorite part of Rhett’s body, because it was sort of like him: One, big, soft piece kept company by hard masks that he presented to everybody else. “Beautiful.” That was muttered, said more to himself than Rhett, but if necessary, he’d shout it from the rooftops.

“I think the wall would be good,” Rhett commented when Link was eye-level with his crotch. There was no hiding the fact that this was getting to him, now. “More comfortable.” What he was really saying was, _“That bed is way too small for the two of us and we’d have much more room on the wall, though I’m not the biggest fan of being against it because I don’t know what’s been on there before me.”_ “What do you think?”

“I think the wall sounds good.” Then, lower, “And I can see that you’re very excited by that idea, hm?”

Link was on his knees, now, craning his neck to look up at Rhett’s face, his towering figure playing in by making it more difficult.

Rhett’s erection had only grown in the last few minutes, now straining to break out from the restriction of his jeans. Keeping it at bay was only made harder by each moment that passed.

“Or are you thinking about what’s gonna happen on it?” Link finished. They both knew he was.

“I’m thinking about you,” Rhett said meekly, and his voice didn’t quite carry down to his husband. It likely didn’t even reach him halfway. “About you-”

Link cut him off before he could get any further, looking up at him with his eyes kind, but his voice filthy. “You’re gonna have to speak up, sweetheart. I can’t hear you all the way down here.”

Rhett’s first instinct was to whine and tell Link to, “Well, come back up here, then,” but by some grace, he was able to come up with a less petulant response, simply clearing his throat and adjusting his voice accordingly. However, this time, he went down a different line of thought. He hoped it would get him what he wanted. “I can’t say it any louder.” His entire face was a deep scarlet. It was obvious to Link that that was true.

“You too embarrassed, baby?” Link asked, slowly, and that meant **slowly** , standing. Along with a trail of kisses, he dragged himself up with the help of his fingertips that carefully dug into Rhett’s skin. Red was left in their wake. “Gotta say it soft and hope no one else hears you?”

Rhett nodded, swallowing hard. In contradiction to his stature, he had always been the unassuming type. He didn’t have to worry about scaring Link like he did others, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t shy anyway. It was hard to say what he was thinking, even after all these years with him. “Y-Yes, sir.”

The next time that Link spoke, he was standing entirely straight. He kissed Rhett’s shoulder before his expression turned encouraging. “Whisper it to me, love. Nobody else’ll hear.”

“I’m just thinking about you,” Rhett started again, not able to meet Link’s gaze. Simply attempting to get his thoughts out was causing him to blush from head to toe, “having… having your way with me.” He became even quieter as words continued to come.

“Yeah?” Link asked, smirking. “Tell me more.”

“Thinkin’ bout you using me like a ragdoll, takin’ all your frustrations out on me until you’re sure I won’t be moving for a whole month straight. Bout you doing whatever you want to me.” His voice was low, not in the sexy sense or in a way that told Link that he was _trying_ to turn him on (his flusteredness did that job and did it well), but in the anxious way, in the way that told Link that it gave him butterflies to speak the words, but that he was trying his damndest to make them sound hot. “About you making me so filthy I have no chance of ever gettin’ clean again.”

Now, **that** was an image that could get Link hard in an instant if he wasn’t already. “Is that what you want, darlin’? Want Daddy to make you feel so good that my name’s the only thing you remember how to scream?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, looking to the floor shyly. He wanted it to be like he was born solely to fulfill Link’s each and every need. “That’s what I want.”

“Well,” Link growled, his accent thick. He knew that turned Rhett on. “Then that’s what you’ll get. I certainly don’t mind turning you into a pretty, pretty mess. You know that.”

If he was being truthful (and he’d told Rhett thousands of times), he’d dreamt about having this opportunity since the day he came here. He had been longing to have the chance for _years_ , and it had better be believed that he had imagined it happening many ways, this outcome included in multiple cases. It was only icing on an already sweet cake that his most-fantasized route was the one that Rhett picked, too.   

“I know. Me, too.”

“Safewords. Remind me,” Link ordered, a firm point on his words.

Rhett had to wrack his brain to find them. He’d always known them, even in the back of his mind, but of course it was only when they were actually required for something that he wasn’t imagining that they slipped from his consciousness. How could he have forgotten? They were so **simple**! But, thankfully, after a moment, he recovered them. “Yellow’s for slow down and red’s for stop,” he provided.

“Good boy. That’s exactly right.” By running his hands up and down Rhett’s sides, he ghosted over the marks that he had left moments earlier, imagining how many more he’d have made by the time they were finished. There wouldn’t be an unblemished inch of him left once they were through.  

Link’s hands ultimately settled on being “down”, working deftly to undo the belt that held up Rhett’s jet black jeans. He had told him a million times that brown belts were not a universal accessory, but for some reason, he kept wearing them even when his blue denim was left in the drawer at home. “Rhett, how many times do I have to tell you to wear a thin black belt when you wear black jeans? A brown belt with black jeans looks tacky. They’re okay for blue jeans, but black belts for black jeans **always**.”

Rhett knew that. Link had drilled it into him on thousands of days, always with a warm laugh and assistance picking a better one, and it even got to the point where, for a while, Link coordinated his outfits for him. He knew “black belts for black jeans” like he knew his own name. He fumbled to find an excuse for why he hadn’t followed that rule this morning, praying that Link would take it as true. “I know that,” he admitted softly, not able to meet Link’s eye. “I just… I was just so excited to get out here to see you today that I just threw it on. I didn’t want to be late and have them tell me I couldn’t see you, Link. I didn’t want to miss my chance.”

Link’s irises were suddenly darker than they were before, and even without making eye contact, Rhett could feel them boring into him. It was like they were lasers. “Do you have any idea what was wrong with what you just said?”

Rhett appeared perplexed. Honestly, no. He didn’t have the slightest clue. Was it that the brown belt was wrong in the first place? No, he’d already said that. “No,” he said quietly, ashamed that he didn’t have a proper answer, or an answer at all. “I don’t.”

With lighting quickness, Link brought a hand up to Rhett’s head and grabbed a fistful of his dirty blond hair. Yanking backward harshly, he left Rhett staring up at the flickering lights on the ceiling. Could he change some of those bulbs before he left? “What’s my name?”

With those three words, a lightbulb, this one as bright and sure as the sun, went off in Rhett’s head. He had called him ‘Link’, hadn’t he?

When Rhett, too wrapped up in his own brain, failed to answer, Link gripped his hair more harshly, hissing this time. “What. is. my. name?”

Rhett shivered, the room suddenly much colder with Link seconds away from doing Heaven only knew what. “Daddy,” he choked, all the color drained from his face. He was almost a ghost. This time, almost pleading, “Daddy.”

“That’s right.” Link loosened his grip on Rhett’s hair, and soon, his hand fell away and Rhett’s head was allowed to settle back into its previous position. “Remember that.”

Next, both of Link’s hands fell downward again, continuing to complete their previous task of unbuckling his offending belt. However, he didn’t stop there, instead going about pulling it through the loops of his jeans. They both knew that the action wasn’t necessary to take the pants down.

“Now,” Link said slowly, drawing out the word longer than Rhett thought possible. “The way I see this is that I’ve told you, nicely, countless times that this is not the belt to wear with these jeans. I’ve gone as far as to pick out your jeans and their matching belt for you so no mistake would be made. Obviously, being kind about it and giving you gentle reminders doesn’t do the trick. I understand that you didn’t want to miss our visit, and it was very smart of you to be conscious of your time, but disobeying me is simply inexcusable. It’s clear that you need a bit of a harder lesson so that you remember for the next time, isn’t it, naughty boy? You need to be **taught** , not just told.”

Link held the belt in his hand, now, folding it over to create a makeshift strap, which had its pro and cons. The licks would be worse, yes, but at least the belt wouldn’t strike the backs of Rhett’s thighs. Of course, that wasn’t to say that Link wouldn’t go for them intentionally.

Rhett swallowed hard, looking down at Link with wide, watering eyes. He knew what was coming. “But… it’s just fashion. Can’t I just say sorry and we can move on? It’s only a belt.”

Link looked at Rhett like he had grown two extra heads, aghast that he had had the gall to talk back to him. However, the tears in his love’s eyes gave him pause. It had been a long time, and they were out of practice. Was this too much too quickly? He wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t break character to ask, barely above a whisper, “Are you okay?”

Rhett nodded, adding, “Yes…- _Green,_ sorry _._ ” _Colors in response to questions like that._

Link’s eyes, which had flicked briefly with concern, hardened again with the answer, and his voice was rough once more. “Are you giving me lip, boy? I ought to sew your mouth shut. You don’t backtalk me! It doesn’t matter if it’s ‘only a belt’. I told you repeatedly to do something, and you didn’t do it. Just a belt or not, you intentionally disobeyed my orders, and that was wrong. So, here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to be spanked with that same belt, one lick for every other year you’ve been alive, and you’re going to thank me afterward for correcting your misbehavior. Do you understand me?”

Rhett whimpered at the thought of how he wasn’t going to be able to sit after a whooping like that, but he nodded anyway. This wasn’t what he meant when he said that he didn’t want to be able to move for a month straight. With a hint of fear in his voice (but, conversely, a glimmer of excitement in his eye to let Link know that everything was okay), he whimpered, “Yes, sir. I understand.”

Rhett, of course, worried about the noise that it would bring, if they would be charged in on. This was typically the point where it was best for him to just shut up and take what was coming to him, but he was anxious enough about it that he had to ask. He didn’t want to be at risk of losing Link any earlier than he had to. Would it work if he told the CO that it was okay, that he had asked to be hurt? If only he could overcome his damn shyness long enough to be useful. “What if he hears it and comes in?” Rhett whispered, hoping the completely innocent inquiry wouldn’t add to his punishment. No. Link wouldn’t be unfair like that. Would he?

“Well, then you’re just going to have to be a good boy and keep your mouth shut while you’re taking your spanking, aren’t you? You wouldn’t want him to come in and see your bare ass red and throbbing, see you sprawled over my lap and begging for mercy, would you? Wouldn’t want him to see you exposed, unraveling? Hm?”

Rhett let out a trembling breath, his body fighting itself on whether it should go freeze over or steam up in response to the image forming in his brain.

The latter eventually prevailed in the struggle for dominance, causing even his hands to blush and his limbs to shift uncomfortably, fiddling with themselves in an effort to keep their owner’s easily flustered nature under control. If he couldn’t do it himself, his brain would have to take over for him. “No, sir,” he winced. If just the thought of the occurrence was embarrassing him, he couldn’t begin to imagine the real thing.

“So, what are you going to do to prevent that from happening?” Link asked, brushing the backs of his four fingers along Rhett’s cheek, his beard scratching them beneath his touch.

They both already knew the answer, and it was clear to the two of them what that answer meant. “I’m gonna be a good boy for you, Daddy. A really good boy.”

“Good,” he said softly, patting the side of Rhett’s outer thigh. “Now, would you rather bend over or do this on the mattress?” It was nice to give him the option, even if one of those options was more difficult than the other.

“The mattress, please,” Rhett said, choosing the more challenging of the two, not that it bothered Link. He knew why he wanted it. The amount of times they had left to touch one another was numbered, and he wanted as much contact as possible. It was understandable. “If you don’t mind.”

“If I minded,” Link began slowly, pausing in the middle of his sentence for effect, “then I wouldn’t have given you the choice for it.” Link patted the side of Rhett’s outer thigh once again, and he gave him a knowing look. “You remember what to do, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, Link left him, making his way toward the mattress that the prison had provided for their purposes. Thankfully, it was on a frame, so they didn’t have to sink too low to reach it.

Rhett wasn’t far behind in following, but instead of sitting as well, he stopped in front of Link. Standing before him, Rhett brought his hands to his own waist and slowly pulled down his jeans, letting them fall to his knees before he (not very gracefully) stepped out of them. His boxer briefs came down soon after, pooling around his ankles only very briefly before they joined his pants on the floor. Now, he stood completely naked and vulnerable as goosebumps raised on his skin. Who knew a room could be so chilly? However, the thought couldn’t help to occur to him that Link wouldn’t be letting those goosebumps remain for very long. He’d warm them right up in the coming moments.

He struggled to make eye contact with Link, his face flushed and his limbs fidgeting as he waited for nothing at all. He knew that procrastinating this wasn’t in his best interest, and he wasn’t typically the type to.

If Rhett was being honest, he liked being spanked. Sure, Link’s hand or his various implements were hard and brutal. They hurt like hell. But the closeness of being with him and the promise of what came after made it all worth it. The assurance that all that he had done was wiped clean and he was operating on a fresh slate was only an added bonus.   

He figured that it was only because he was trying to take it all in. This would be his last. Today was the day that held most of his **lasts.** His last spanking, his last time having sex with Link. Their last session. His last visit with him. The last time spending any **time** with him. There was no more after this, and he wasn’t even sure of whether or not today would contain their last hug and kiss, or whether this was when he was supposed to say goodbye. Would he get a chance on the execution day, or was he just supposed to sit behind a sheet of bulletproof glass like a man and watch the love of his life fade away forever? A lot was ending today, and he wasn’t ready to let go of any of it.

Link could see the worry, the pain, and the sadness in Rhett’s eyes. He’d known him long enough to know what was going on in his head, and he didn’t dare hold it against him. That wouldn’t be fair. Instead, he gave him a sympathetic look and instructed, “Take a minute, sweetheart. A minute and a big, deep breath. Very slow, in and out.”

It was hard, but not nearly as much as it would have been if Rhett had spiraled into a panic about it. His breaths came with minimal effort, and he kept up the pace that Link had ordered. In… out. In… out. In… out.

He let his eyes fall closed as he breathed, trying to picture something peaceful. Trying to imagine that they weren’t in this run down prison room, but rather in a California King-sized bed under a hundred blankets and surrounded by a thousand pillows, but for some reason still cuddling one another for warmth. Trying to imagine a time when they were happy, when they could be **together** . When Rhett didn’t have to walk out of the room and be escorted by a correctional officer to be let out of the **federal facility** that he had just visited his incarcerated spouse inside. He tried to imagine a time when things were good. When he was worry free. When he didn’t know what kind of person Link **really** was or what he had done. When he was naïve.  And somehow, by some miracle or another, it worked. It calmed him. And when he opened his eyes again to find that everything that he didn’t want to be true was still staring him in the face, he didn’t feel so bad about it anymore. For a little while, at least.

“You okay now?” Link, the one constant in this crazy mess, asked, his big blue eyes staring up at Rhett with concern. Had his instructions helped? Was he better?

“I’m okay,” Rhett echoed, producing a weak smile, figuring that actions spoke louder than words. But, certainly, Link believed his words to be the truest thing in the universe. “Thank you.”

“Okay,” he repeated, patting his lap in a significant manner. “Let’s get to it, then.”

Rhett was out of place over Link’s lap. He was too big. His limbs were gangly and hung over the ends of the bed, and his outer half hung past Link’s thighs. But the younger man made it work, pulling him as close as he could while still making an accurate aim and thinking of ways to make him feel as least like a giant as he could. This was one place, if any of all places, where he was supposed to feel small, after all.

Time slowed to Rhett as Link ran his dominant hand over the length of him, petting him slowly. Rhett knew what this was: settling his nerves.

The dips of his back, the curve of his ass, it all felt so soft. Rhett had never been one for moisturizing anything other than his hair, and Link sure as hell didn’t do it for him. Maybe it was just because he was so used to feeling rough.

“Okay, little boy,” he began, running his fingers through locks of blond hair. All of him was so gentle. “Tell me why you’re getting this spanking.”

Rhett had to think for a moment; his brain was too cloudy to remember straight away, to form an articulate way to say it. All he could focus on was the feeling of Link under him, of the sound of his voice over him. He was floating in his perfect bubble and was struggling to pop it. “I… I wore the brown belt,” he provided, but then heard Link in his head asking, _“And?”_ so he continued. “I wore the brown belt with the black jeans even though you told me over and over that I should only wear it with the blue jeans.” That didn’t sound good enough so he finished with, “I disobeyed you and I could have avoided it,” hoping that would be enough.

“That’s right,” Link replied, his hand continuing to move monotonously up and down Rhett’s body. “What belt do we wear when we put on black jeans?”

“The black belt,” came Rhett’s quick response, and he added for good measure, “the brown belt is only for blue jeans.”

“I’m glad you know that now, but we’re going to have to come up with a way for you to remember it in the future, aren’t we?” It wasn’t a question that he wanted to be answered. “Luckily for you, I know exactly how we’re going to do it.” He paused, but only silence filled it. “Instead of counting off your smacks, here’s what I want you to do: For every odd time you get spanked, you say, ‘black belt’. For every even one, ‘black jeans’. By the end of it, you should have repeated yourself twenty times. Do you understand me?”

Understandably, that statement confused Rhett. If he was getting twenty licks and each repetition of the statement took two of them, that meant that he’d only be speaking the statement ten times. There must have been another meaning, though. Link was a smart man. He couldn’t mess up math that badly. He must be missing a piece. “Twenty?” he asked meekly, perplexed. “But it’s only twenty licks. Did you increase it?” He was starting to worry.  It reflected in his voice. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Link assured, and he sounded patient. “It’d be stupid of me not to understand that picking the wrong belt isn’t the biggest infraction in the world. The wrongdoing wasn’t the belt itself, it was disobeying me. But since I understand that it was only a minor infraction, especially compared to other things that you’ve done in the past, I’m going to warm you up with my hand first.”

Rhett was grateful for that kindness. For various other reasons, he had been spanked with this particular belt before, and it was _not_ easy on his delicate skin. Some smacks given only by Link’s hand first would be a major help.

“I understand now. Thank you.” Twenty repetitions. That was easy enough, right?

“Warm up” in their world, however, hardly meant gentle.

The first slap came down on Rhett’s ass and they could both swear that the sound of it echoed throughout the entire building.

Rhett yelped, though he tried to bite it back. Link wasn’t gentle when it was for punishment, that was for sure.

The next was noticeably harder, and it came with Link’s snarl. “What,” _smack,_ “are you,” _slap!_ “supposed to say?”

Rhett jumped, his eyes blowing open wide, and his brain ran overtime for what felt like the most intense half second of his life before he answered, “Black belt!”

From the smack, Link’s hand naturally went into rubbing circles on the spot which it had landed, removing some of the sting and priming it for the next slap, or so Rhett assumed. But instead, it came to the opposite side.

It was less forceful than the flurry that had come before it, back to the level of strength that came behind the opening spank. Rhett was relieved for that. “Black jeans,” he finished.

“Good boy,” Link praised, and without another word, they continued.

Even with the warmup that Link had been so gracious as to give him, the belt was still harsh on Rhett.

Link had warned him, yes, but even if he hadn’t, Rhett had been counting off the smacks from his hands in his head, keeping track of how many times he repeated his provided phrase. However, the first lick of the belt was a shock to his system like no other. He hadn’t felt it in a long time, and he wasn’t even sure he’d be used to it again before the twenty stripes were laid on his skin and his belting was said and done.

Black belt. Black jeans. That was the phrase that would get him through this, the one that all he had to do was remember to repeat. Black belt. Black jeans.

The leather was heavy on Rhett’s skin, the doubled up material thudding against it and making a sound akin to the bang of a gun.

The lines from the implement were deep set even just by stripe five, and Rhett struggled to remain still, tears that he vowed to hold back welling in his eyes.

“You’re a quarter of the way through,” Link informed him, the voice above him roughened, but attempting to be soft. “You can make it. Stay still.”

Rhett tried to stop his squirming, but his ass was already on fire and it helped him cope. He felt as if he could see behind him, he’d discover that his backside was smoking.

The words of encouragement only helped so much, and they only kept Rhett unmoving for so long.

The leather popped off of his flesh every time that Link’s arm swung, and from lick six through lick nine, it took all of Rhett’s strength not to bounce with it. But by the time the tenth came, he nearly jumped out of his own skin.

By now, his backside was decorated with long, wide marks, all at varying angles. Rhett’s breathing was ragged, and he hated to admit the fact that tears had started to spill from his eyes.

Luckily, Link took notice of this and paused. Rhett swelled with relief even though he knew that they weren’t yet through.

Meticulously, Link laid the belt, still folded over, over the small of Rhett’s back, then moved his hand further south to begin carefully kneading Rhett’s ass in an attempt to take away some of the sting and burn. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer than it had been the last time he’d spoken. “We’re halfway through, now. Only ten left. You’re doing so good for me, baby. So, so good.”

Rhett could only respond with a pathetic sniffle and a nod of his head. He was supposed to reply with words, he knew, but he was afraid that his voice would betray him and crack as the words came out. So, he just had to hope that Link wouldn’t penalize him for it.

“C’mon, baby boy,” Link coaxed, reaching over to run his free hand through the curls of Rhett’s fluffed hair. “You know I have to hear you. I have to hear your gorgeous voice, darlin’.”

It wasn’t gorgeous. At least not now. Now, it was scratchy and crackly and hoarse. Now, it was pathetic. It wasn’t gorgeous. It was ugly. So, he stayed silent, praying it’d work out in his favor.

Link didn’t get angry for his silence. He couldn’t, not when Rhett was upset and crying and ashamed to admit it. As far as he was concerned, even if Rhett hadn’t called _yellow_ , they were taking a time out, and timeouts meant his gentle, loving voice as opposed to his stern, punishing one. “I _wanna_ hear it,” he said quietly, both of his hands working magic and hoping one of them would get through to him. “I don’t care if you stumble or stutter, hon. I still love it anyway. I need to know you’re okay, and nodding doesn’t help me. You know that. Just one word. It’s all it is. Can you do that for me?”

Embarrassment crept up on Rhett as he thought about speaking. He didn’t want to sound weak, didn’t want to be perceived as such. But then, as it always did, his brain snapped him out of that and reminded him that this was **Link** they were talking about. Link was a safe place. He could be his most embarrassing self and Link would still love him anyway. One little tremble in one tiny word wouldn’t be the end of all things. “Y-Yes,” he hiccuped finally, and that was all it took to satisfy his partner.  

“Thank you,” the man acknowledged. “That’s all I needed.”

Rhett nodded again, taking in a shaky breath, and then another, followed by a third. He figured that’s what Link would ask him to do next, anyway, and the thought was only reaffirmed by a gentle pat on the back.

“We’re gonna start again, now,” Link stated matter-of-factly, but then backtracked just slightly. “What’s your color, baby?”

More talking. Lovely. “Green,” he said softly, though, and got it over with. Just like they’d do this.

“Only ten more left,” Link reminded, and Rhett could hear his voice starting to harden, even if only slightly, again. Slowly but surely, they were getting back into things. “You can do it. I believe in you.” A moment passed before he said, “Here we go.”

Rhett felt the belt leave his back soon after, and he heard it rise through the air.

It wasn’t long before that rise had to fall.  

Rhett was strong, however, miraculously, and he was steeled for it. And the next. And the one after that.

Black belt. Black jeans. Black belt. Black jeans.

Thirteen down. Only seven more. But yet, his brain kept telling him he wouldn’t be able to make it, telling him to beg and plead and grovel his way out of enduring the rest. Telling him to escape it. And, somehow, for some reason, he couldn’t resist trying. It really hurt, after all.   

“P-Please,” he whimpered, trying to shift his weight to get away from what was coming down. He knew it was bad, knew he’d, at the very least, get a warning for it, but he couldn’t help it. Frankly, he was surprised that he had made it as far as he did without opening his mouth. “Please, Daddy. I c-can’t… I can’t take anymore. I’m so sorry. I’ve luh-learned my lesson. Please, please. Please, no more.”

Even though Rhett couldn’t see it, Link smiled sympathetically. It wasn’t for him. “Yes, you can, Rhett. You’re a good boy. You’re _my_ good boy, aren’t you? And my good boy takes his punishments well.”

Rhett anticipated that to be the end of that and for the next lick to come down immediately, but it didn’t, and for a second, he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

Instead, Link rubbed his back reassuringly, his voice now a soft mutter. “You’re my good boy. I know you can do it. Can you just try for me? You only have seven left, sweetheart, and then I’ll make you forget you ever had any pain at all. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Rhett thought about it for a moment, and he knew that if he argued back, he’d definitely get extra spanks added, so he didn’t even try. He just agreed, feeling himself harden even further on top of Link’s thighs. Whoever said that words had an effect on people was right. “Y-Yes, sir. Promise?”

“Of course,” Link assured, and Rhett didn’t doubt him. Link had never let him down when it came to promises before. This “good feeling” that he was being guaranteed… He’d just have to hold onto that until the end.

Link asked if he was ready to start again, and Rhett said yes, not wanting to waste any of the precious minutes that they had left. All he had to do was picture what was coming after he was punished and forgiven. He was strong. He was Link’s _good boy_. He could get through a little belting. No problem.

Link tried to be kind and bring the belt down on clean spaces, but there weren’t any of those left by now. So, he attempted to lay them down in areas that were **less** affected, trying to give Rhett a slight amount of respite.

Rhett could hardly notice. By this point, pain was pain and it all hurt. However, if he had been told what Link was doing, he was sure that he would appreciate it regardless.

Rhett was red faced, tearful, and willing to do whatever it took to be granted permission to get off of Link’s lap, and he wondered how that could possibly be sexy. But in addition to the feeling of the belt coming down on his skin, he noticed his cock hardening by the millisecond. That was sure to be commented on once he was in an upright position again.

By some grace, _twenty_ came and went with only a choked, “Black jeans,” from Rhett and a soft, “Okay,” from Link.

Link set the belt aside on the bed before going about massaging Rhett’s shoulders, working his way down his entire body. “Okay,” he whispered, and Rhett could only shake. “You’re done, now. You’re all done. You did such a good job, darlin.”

The man’s southern accent was thick, and he knew that that could accomplish two things: it could turn Rhett on, or it could calm him down. It was most likely doing both, but for the moment, he hoped it was mostly the latter. “My good boy. You took that so well.”

A while was spent murmuring sweet things to Rhett, and for a while, he could only respond with sniffles and heaved breaths, but, gradually, he became more relaxed and responsive.

“You ready to get up now, hon?” Link asked when he sensed that Rhett seemed to be calm enough, though not at all pressuring him toward any particular answer.

Rhett nodded, though he feared that Link had missed it (he would never have; he was on hyper alert for responses right now), so he added a meek, “Yeah,” for good measure. The pain had been reduced from a stinging, seering ache to a dulling throb, and they had other things to attend to. He didn’t want to waste their entire visitation ruminating on his wrongdoing. It was over, now.

The act of Rhett climbing off of Link’s lap from his position was clumsy to say the least. It could practically be called stumbling instead. But once he was upright, he stood in front of Link and stared down at him. Typically, Rhett seen by Link from that angle could be described as “looming”, but today, although he towered over the blue-eyed man, he was still miniscule.

His hands covered his crotch, but he knew it was useless. Link could tell that it was there. There was no doubt in his mind that that was true, and it was only confirmed when Link brushed his hands aside knowingly.

Grabbing them to hold them, Link used Rhett’s hands to support him in standing, not that he needed it. It was just to get them out of the way.

But once he was standing and looked down, he found that in addition to developing a hard-on, Rhett had leaked precome all over his prison slacks.

“Well, would you look at the mess you’ve made,” he commented, tsking. The tone of his voice only made it more difficult for Rhett to stay calm. “I should make you lick this clean, dirty boy. Make you get on your knees and lap it up like a dog. But we’re on a schedule and I’m feeling forgiving today. I’ll let it slide.”

“I’m sorry,” Rhett apologized earnestly. “I-Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, sir?”

He leaned up to kiss Rhett’s face gently, tasting the salty tears on his cheeks and smiling against his skin, reassuring even though the blond couldn’t see it. “All I need you to do is be your pretty self.”

Rhett nodded in understanding and gave a teasing half-smile. “I think I can manage that.”

“Good. Now. Do you understand what you did wrong?” he asked, but his voice was not hard. He must have after all that that leather put him through.  

“Yes, Daddy,” Rhett replied.

“Will you do it again?” Heaven (or, maybe Hell?) only knew that he wouldn’t be around the punish him the next time he made a mistake.

“No.”

“Good boy,” he praised, leaning up on his toes once again to kiss his lips. “You’re forgiven.”

A moment or two passed where the pair just stood there quietly, completely still, simply looking at one another. Of course, Link had needed to lift Rhett’s chin to do it, but their eyes met regardless.

But, sure enough, movement came, and it did so in the form of trailed kisses and rough hands running down soft sides and one very hot ass.

“You can touch me, too, you know, baby. Feel me up all you want while you have the chance,” Link murmured huskily, his voice bordering on devilish. “Put your hands all over me, darlin’.”

Usually, Rhett wasn’t allowed to touch in times like these. Sometimes, he wasn’t even allowed to look. So, he knew he was being permitted to do a lot. That this was special. How could it not be? It _was_ the last time, after all.

Rhett wanted commit every single inch of Link’s body to his memory. Wanted the feeling of him to forever be seared into his brain, even if it destroyed him every time he closed his eyes and saw his face.

Wanted to be able to touch him even when he wasn’t making contact with anything at all, wanted to be able to feel him during the darkest, scariest, loneliest nights, and in the times that he needed something to get off on. In the times when he missed him, in the times when he needed him, in the times that he was _lusting_ for him. He needed to remember him. So, he didn’t waste time in laying his hands on Link, afraid that he’d take the permission back. He had to jump at the chance while he still had it.

Running his hands up Link’s shirt, he started to feel his sides and then his torso, and then, suddenly, the shirt was on the ground. Link didn’t complain.

The rooms lighting was harsh on Link's skin and Rhett could see all of its imperfections, but he couldn't bring himself to mind. As far as he was concerned, Link's entire body was without any flaw at all.

Link kissed him hard as he explored his body, and then went to kiss lower, sucking and biting wherever he went.

Rhett had never been one for being marked. He preferred that his skin stay clean, embarrassed of anything left behind by those who gave him their love. But today, he was hoping for them. He was ready to appreciate the redness on his skin from Link's beard, and the hickies given by his lips, and the bite marks placed by his teeth. Soon, it would be the only physical trace left of him. So, today, he welcomed them without complaint. Today, he’d take anything he could get.

After not long at all, they were both stripped completely and Link was as marked as Rhett. Link would certainly have enough left over come tomorrow that he could take it to his grave.

Link was as hard as Rhett, if not more so, and the taller man couldn’t resist the urge feel his partner’s member, enveloping it with the use of only one, massive hand. What could he say? He was told he could do all the touching he wanted.

But still, it was hesitant; he certainly wasn’t as sure of himself as he thought he should be. It had been a long time. But, luckily, Link was there to talk him through it.

“You like the feelin’ of me, darlin’?” he drawled, looking him directly in the eye. It had always helped him to maintain reality in the past, firm eye contact. It kept him calm, even, when it was just gentle enough. “Like to touch me there?”

“Mhm,” Rhett confirmed, and his tone was as shy as his grasp and the thumb that rubbed circles into his cock, unwittingly causing it to twitch. Nobody’s hand but his own had done that in a long time.

“Would it help you to know that I like it, too?” he asked, and he had to keep his voice from shaking, cracking, or both.  

Rhett nodded, and Link failed to comment on how he had to use his words.

“Well, I like it,” he confirmed, and gave his partner a toothy grin. “Feel free to do whatever you want.” At least for now. When it came to it, after all, today was about Rhett. Link could get off on his own time.

* * *

 

Before Rhett even really realized it, Link was backing him into the wall on the far side of the room, the one that he couldn’t see because his eyes were closed so that his mouth was focused on Link’s lips.

Link pushed him entirely against it, but his hands were so full of Link’s ass that he didn’t have the chance to feel the burn of his own.  

He didn’t want his lips to have to unlock from Link’s, to stop tasting him, but the younger man pulled away from the kiss without giving him a choice in the matter.

Link smiled devilishly down at him, clearly prepared for more nefarious activities than making out. He could tell by the sight of Rhett’s red, throbbing erection that he was ready for the same, and what was he around for if not to make the decisions that served his love’s best interest?

“Time to flip over, babydoll,” he rumbled into the green-eyed man’s ear, his voice rough and gravelly, but his words the opposite. “I’m gonna take care of you real good, sweetheart, and all you have to do is stand there. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Mhm,” Rhett choked out, unable to say much else. His mind was full of images of what was to come. He couldn’t even stop them long enough to pay attention to the real thing. However, he was sure of one thing. In this case, reality **would** live up to fantasy.

He turned around just as Link had asked once he was given some room, cheek now against a suspiciously dirty white-ish wall, waiting for his next instruction and trying not to think about whatever germs were taking residence on his body. He could always shower later (but of course, he would prefer not to; he wanted Link on him for as long as he could have him.)

“Good boy,” Link praised, running his hand through the blond tufts of hair on his head. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not the most comfortable, but I’ll make you forget all about it in just a second.”

And, well, forget Rhett did.

Link started by standing up at his full height, trailing kisses and hickies down Rhett’s neck, shoulders, back, and sides, and by the time he got down to the small of his back, he had Rhett whimpering and whining and pleading with him to just, “Please hurry. Daddy, c’mon, please.”

Rhett had always been taught patience, to wait kindly and quietly for whatever was coming to him, but today, he just couldn’t bear it. He wanted to feel Link before somebody came in and told them that their time was up. Though he doubted that anybody would make them finish until Link **told** them that they were finished, it was still a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that their time would be cut short and he wanted to cut to the chase before it could happen. Plus, well, speaking frankly, it had been long enough since they’d done this and he was impatient for him regardless.

Link thought for a moment, and the decision was clear. This was Rhett’s day and he decided things, no matter he personally wanted to take it slow and savor it. He’d make personally sure that there was enough savoring _while_ they were having fun.

The younger man lowered himself down onto his knees, now eye-level with Rhett’s crimson ass. He licked his lips at the sight of it, proud of the job that he’d done. With marks like that, Rhett would remember him long after he was gone.

“So pretty,” he commented, and Rhett squirmed under the praise. “My pretty little boy’s pretty little ass. God, I could swear I’ve never seen such a gorgeous sight in my entire life… Tell me, Rhett, did you clean your tight hole for me before coming down here? Did you clean it nice and good so I’d have no trouble helping you see stars?”

Rhett swallowed hard, but then he nodded, and said, “Yes, Daddy.” That was all Link needed.

“Can you hold your ass open for me or do you need to hold onto the wall?” Link asked, looking up at Rhett even though they couldn’t make eye contact.

Rhett blushed, or well, blushed harder than before. That was such a dirty sentence with such filthy intent and he was asking it in the same way he’d ask if Rhett wanted sushi or pizza for dinner. That only served to make it hotter. “I can spread it,” he assured, and then brought his hands down to pull his cheeks apart. He hissed at the feeling that grabbing onto the redness of it brought. The marks were still raw by his definition.

“Good. Keep your hands out of the way, now,” Link told him, and he didn’t give Rhett time to respond.

The first swipe of the grey-haired man’s tongue was tentative; it had been a while since they’ve done anything of a sexual nature, and he wanted to make sure that it was okay. Even if Rhett _said_ it was, saying and feeling were two different things.

Rhett twitched at the new sensation, but he didn’t try to move away, something that Link saw as a good sign.

“That okay, baby boy?” he questioned, reaching his own hands up to grab onto Rhett’s hips. “Feel good to you?”

“Y-Yeah. Mhm,” Rhett confirmed, nodding against the wall. “Feels so good.”

“Good,” Link replied slowly, drawing out the letters. His hands gripped Rhett’s hips tightly, fingers digging into the skin. Rhett had always liked a hint of pain with his pleasure, and he’d be sure to find crescent-shaped bruises on his skin once they were through. Link just had to be careful not to draw blood. Even though Rhett probably didn’t care by this point, Link **did**. He didn’t want to take things too far.

Another swipe of his tongue against Rhett’s hole, this one more sure of itself. Harder, more firm. Rhett started to shake.  

“You taste delicious, baby,” Link growled, low and deep in his throat. “You start doin’ anything different?”

“N-No, sir,” Rhett stammered, trying to angle his neck to look behind him. He couldn’t. “Just the same old st-stuff,” he confirmed.

“Oh,” Link replied, his drawl thicker than it had been in the moments before. It had Rhett groaning. “I must just not have tasted anything this good in a while, then.”

If Rhett had to pick one word to describe the way that Link ate him out, it would be “animalistically.” He gave it his all, not sparing any colloquial expense in the way that he used his mouth.

It wasn’t long before he had Rhett trembling so badly that he couldn’t keep his hands still. Link gave him one chance and a second and even a third, but after that, Rhett’s cheeks falling back into place just got in the way too much to be productive.

“Move your hands,” Link ordered, not asking nicely nor with intent to give another option. Rhett obeyed immediately, though he didn’t know where to put them next. “If you can’t do it the right way, I’ll hold them open for you.”

It wasn’t that Rhett was upset with himself for not being able to do the one thing that Link had asked of him correctly. He was fine with that. He was too busy enjoying himself to do much else, and both he and Link knew that was okay. This wasn’t a punishment where he had to focus on doing one specific thing right. It was just that it made him feel just the smallest bit less helpless that Link was doing it for him, but that was a good thing. He was supposed to feel out of control.

Link’s hands, though smaller than his own, were large on Rhett’s ass, and just like with his hips, he dug his fingernails into the skin, only intensifying the burn that had finally started to dull down, bringing it right back to the surface with a vengeance. Again, as long as it wasn’t too much, Rhett liked a bit of discomfort. More sensations at once got him off quicker.

Rhett settled on furling his hands in his own hair. He didn’t want to rest his arm against the wall to bite it, and having another sensation to focus on had the added benefit of having something to remind him to kept his noises to a minimum. Though, Link had known him long enough to be aware of all of his tricks, and above all, this was the one that he chastised the most.

Pulling away from Rhett for a moment, he said, “No, no. Don’t even think about it. I want to hear every last one of your gorgeous sounds, babydoll.”

Rhett wanted to give Link what he wanted, but wasn’t a fan of the idea of letting his vocal chords do any work on his behalf. “But… But people will hear. There’s a guard right outside the door.”

“Just pretend he’s not here. I’d be willing to bet you that he’s not even listening.” And with that, Link went back to work.

It wasn’t long before Rhett’s resolve was broken and he was moaning to high Heaven. Link was a **really** good lay and that’s all he had to say about that. It was his only defense, and to him, it was enough.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed, his back arching and his hips simultaneously swaying from side to side.

Link dug his nails into Rhett’s ass even harder to still him, and his mouth opened into a grin as he licked more roughly and with more pressure, his patterns switching every few swipes of the tongue now that Rhett was closer to the edge of coming.

He had to work to keep himself under control. It was so soon; he didn’t want it to end yet, and once again, Link had to coax him to just let go. They had the time. He didn’t have to worry. That’s all it took.

The blond practically painted the walls with his come when he released; he hadn’t had an orgasm that good in _years,_ and he’d never have one as good again.  

With that, Link pulled away and stood up, dusting himself off before making sure that Rhett was steady. “You okay, there, babe?” he asked, pulling the taller man against his chest.

“Mhm,” Rhett stammered, a blissed-out expression plastered all over his face. “Y-You do some good work.”

Link smirked. “A+?”

“A+.”

* * *

 

As it turned out, Rhett and Link had less time than Link had expected them to have, and it wasn’t nearly enough for either of them, though they doubted that any length of time would be.

The guard knocked and entered with a second officer what must have been thirty minutes, but felt like thirty seconds after Rhett very audibly clearly finished. He knocked, and then it was time for Rhett to go back to his hotel and Link to his holding cell.

They kissed before they parted, completely uncaring of the fact that the younger man’s mouth had just been in a very unsavory (at least in the objective sense) place. In fact, they took full advantage of it, knowing that it very well would likely be their last kiss. Though, who knew? Maybe they’d get lucky and have another chance in Link’s final moments. Though, for now, they’d take any chance they could get. But then, as soon as that was over, they were done. Link was cuffed back up and Rhett said goodbye, and they walked out together.

But then, they separated, and with a loud buzz, Rhett was given permission to exit the block, and watching him walk away, Link tried to shake the feeling of sadness in knowing they'd never touch again.


End file.
